Found and Lost
by blueh
Summary: Matthew met his best friend when they jumped into his car and told him to drive. One-shot. Prucan if you squint.


Matthew met his best friend when they jumped into his car and told him to drive.

Honestly, out of all the things Matthew been excepting that morning, this wasn't it. He expected finishing work, stopping through a drive through to get a cup of coffee and return home just like every other day of his life. But, as most know, things _never_ go as planned.

He had just started his car after a long day at work, sitting there for a moment to recover. That was when he heard shouts in the distance and a sudden screech of the tired. He snapped open his eyes just in time to see a man around his age—19 to 20—yank open his car door and slide in.

"Drive!" The man snarled, looking around if someone was going to kill him. "If you want to live, _drive!"_

Matthew didn't know what had gotten into him, maybe the shock of having a random man jumping into his car or the fact that the shouts were getting louder and louder and— _was that a gunshot that he just heard?_

So he drove, faster than he'd ever driven before. The man next to him was cursing up a storm and constantly looking around. He had his hand on his hip and the blonde boy was 90% sure that the dude had a gun with him. Right then and there, Matthew was convinced he was going to die.

There was a gunshot that sounded dangerously close to his car. The people on the streets next to him were screaming and running; yet not a single police officer was there to help. Matthew held back a terrified squeak as he jerked his steering wheel to the left, taking a street. Angry drives honked at him as he cut them off, but honestly he couldn't care less. As long as he was away from the gunshots and the crazy men, excluding the one sitting right next to him.

"Oh god," Matthew muttered as he screeching tries and gunshots echoed in the distance. He took deep breaths because he knew that if he didn't, he'd probably hyperventilate. "Oh my god."

"Sorry," The man muttered next to him. For the first time, Matthew finally got a good look at him; blonde hair that was so bleached that it looked almost white and red eyes that Matthew had never seen on a person before. He was definitely around Matthew's age—barely out of his teen years—but his face held the experience of someone much, much older. He sounded German, too. "I didn't mean to get you involved, but it was the only way I could survive, y'know?"

Matthew didn't comment, instead choosing to keep his eyes on the road. He kept glancing at his rearview mirror, expecting to see the vehicles from before chasing behind them. But luckily, they weren't. "Who are you?"

"Gilbert," The man offered; he was definitely German. "Hey, do you have a place I can stay? I don't think I could go back on the streets at the moment."

"Yeah," Matthew said, even though he had no idea why the heck he was allowing someone with a gun into his house. His mind and mouth weren't exactly connected at the moment. "I have a place you can stay."

The man grinned at him. "Awesome! Thanks. I definitely owe you."

"Yes," Matthew repeated, rolling his eyes a bit. "You honestly do."

* * *

"Alright," Matthew said as he parks his car. "We're here."

The man peaks out his window and grinned. For someone so cheerful, Matthew could only wonder how he ended up in that situation. "This is awesome! I'll only stay one night, okay?"

But Gilbert never really left after that.

Matthew didn't know why or how, but the self-proclaimed "awesome" man always seemed to stick around. Maybe he was just there to bug Matthew; maybe he really didn't have anywhere else to go. But, for whatever reason, Matthew let him stay.

After a few months, they started falling into a routine. Matthew would get up, go to work and then come home and Gilbert would either lounge around the house all day or he'd go out for a walk. Sometimes he'd come back, battered and bloody but smiled and joked all the same. Matthew had been worried at first, fussing over him and wondering what had happened, but Gilbert never once told him so the blonde boy just stopped asking.

By the sixth month that Gilbert had decided that his "awesome" presence was needed in the house, Matthew had almost completely forgotten about the incident that led to them meeting.

 _Almost._

It would take a lot more than just six months to remember the guns, the cars and that one annoying man that changed his life forever. However, he never quite thought that the past would come back to haunt them.

It had started out normal, just like that day all those months ago. It was gloomy, rainy and Matthew had finished another long day work and was pulling up into the driveway when he heard the first shot. It was loud; echoing in his eardrums as a shout rang out. After spending six months with the man, he could tell that was Gilbert.

Matthew narrowed his eyes, taking off his seatbelt and opening the door. He was about to approach the door when he heard two more shots ring out, then the sounds of breaking glass. There was heavy thumping and the door suddenly burst open. An unknown force pushed Matthew back and the blonde barely had time to realize that it was Gilbert before he was shoved into his car.

"Gil?" Matthew tried, but was shushed. Gilbert was panting and there was blood on his shirt. He seemed more worried than Matthew had ever seen him, and looking at Matthew like it was the last time they'd ever see each other.

"Mattie?" Gilbert said. "God, Mattie. Matthew. You need to leave, go, drive away from here—" Another shot rang out and Gilbert flinched, his voice suddenly going a pitch higher. "Go! Matthew, whatever you do, you need to _get out of here now!"_

"What?" Matthew's brain hadn't caught up, his head spinning.

" _Drive_!" Gilbert shouted at him. "Go! God, please just _go!"_

Matthew lost his best friend when he was pushed into his car and told to drive.


End file.
